The Breathtaking Balthazar
by SuperMutantSam
Summary: Balthazar lives as a traveling, teenaged magician, trading magic tricks for meager pay. He fits the role well, due in no small part to his impeccable showmanship and innate magical ability. But after a harrowing brush with death and an unexpected encounter with Artemis Crock, the Breathtaking Balthazar, along with his familiar Dalf, prepares to perform on the stage of heroes.
1. Curtains Up

**Gotham City**

**May 15, 15:02 EDT**

Gotham has been disappointing. I didn't think that I'd be setting up in Tim Burton's Metropolis or anything, but I figured I'd have gotten someone to approach me by now. I mean, I've been in this city for only three days, and I'm already running out of shuffling tricks. I even had to look up some tutorials online for new ideas, a betrayal of my magician's integrity so egregious that I'll be showering off the shame for years to come. I glanced down at the top hat sitting bottom-up next to my folding table's leg, its empty depths _mocking_ me. I can't allow myself to scowl at it, lest I compromise my wholesome visage, but I promise I am on the inside, where it counts. I heard the coo of a pigeon, and my gaze shot down the street, just as my ears began to pick up on the two approaching passersby.

"Dad, seriously, you don't need to escort me," a young girl's voice insisted.

"I'm telling you that I would have been fine on my own." The girl looks to be in her early teens and has red hair. The middle-aged man with brown hair and a mustache she's with was likely the "dad" she was referring to. He probably wouldn't pay me any mind on a good day, but I might be able to reel the girl in.

"And _I'm_ telling you that this is how it's gonna be until you can drive," her father responded. I pull my eyes away from them and kick my shuffling into overdrive, shifting from technique to technique on the fly. _Riffle shuffle, Strip shuffle, Hindu shuffle, back to Strip, Mongean shuffle..._

"You mean that this is how it's going to be until you can get your car back from the shop," she jabbed with a sly smirk. As the two steadily approached my table, I glanced upwards one more time. The pigeon was still innocently perched atop a nearby streetlight, meeting my gaze.

"Not afraid to rib your old man, 'eh?" he laughed.

_Showtime._

"Afternoon, you two!" I greeted. Their pace halted, and their focus shifted to me. _Attention grabbed; a good start._

"Um, hello," the father responded tentatively. "Can I help you?"

_A non-dismissive response, better than what I got in Central, but I'm not home-free yet. Just play it cool, keep up that smile, and reel them in._

"Actually, I was hoping to perform for you two on this fine afternoon!"

"I'm sorry, what?" the father asked, incredulous. Even whimsically so, being ambiguous was taking a risk, and I couldn't lose them now. The girl was quiet, but she was also glancing down at my hands. I hadn't paused my shuffling since they approached; she was interested.

"Well, everyone needs a bit of magic in their lives, right?" I questioned, gesturing to the seat across the table. "Why don't either of you take a seat, and I can give you some of mine?" I showed off my _enchantingly_ pearly whites and increased the intensity of my shuffling. I move on to the Dynamo flourish; _everyone_ loves the Dynamo flourish. The girl was now openly entranced by my technique. _Come on, take the bait._

"Thanks, but I think we're fine," he said by way of rejection, starting to walk away. _No, no, no, come on, turn back-_

"W-Wait, hold up!" the girl called to her father, stopping his departure. _Thank God._

"Barbara, we really should get going," her father urged.

"C'mon, dad!" Barbara pleaded. "It's not like he's going to do anything! A-and you owe me for embarrassing me in front of Dick at school!"

_Yeah, pops; don't ruin Barbara's day any further. I mean, c'mon: you made her look bad in front of Dick? Dick?! You owe her, big guy. So, just bite right onto that bait and…_

"Alright, alright," he ceded. _Hook, line, and sinker!_

"Yes!" she cheered, taking her seat. I couldn't tell if she was grateful that she got to watch me play with cards or just prideful that she managed to get her father to do what she wanted, but either way, yay, money!

"Wonderful! You're a lucky one - Barbara, was it?" I asked. She responded with an affirmative nod. "Fantastic! You're a lucky one, Barbara, because I have a brand new trick that I've just been dying to try." She seemed excited, if not cautious of the possibility that this might be kind of awful, my act being street magic and all. Which, I can't lie, hurt worse than a gunshot, but those are the sacrifices I made in this line of work. Regardless, I was confident in my ability to _wow_, so I began.

"At the risk of sounding cliché," I drew five cards, facing them downwards towards the table, "could I ask you to pick a card?" She chose the center card, five of spades. "Now, please memorize it." She looked down at the card and followed my instruction to her satisfaction before nodding, meeting my gaze once more. "Splendid! Lastly, please fold that card as many times as you can, being sure that _I_ can't see it and then place it into this hat," I place the top hat in-between us on the table, "right here." As she folded the card, I glanced towards her father, and one would assume he was merely shrewdly observing my act. Still, I can't help but anxiously think he's inspecting me.

"Okay," she murmured to herself, having finished folding her card and dropping it into my hat.

"Wonderful!" I cheered, clapping my gloved hands together, which brought her father's attention back to the trick itself. I draw five new cards from the deck and knowingly pick the seven of hearts, seemingly at random. "Is," I flipped the card's face to Barbara, "_this_ your card?" She was visibly confused. I must have picked the wrong card. _Whoops_.

"Um…no?" she answered awkwardly.

"Truly?" I responded, feigning shock. I faked a convincingly confused expression as I turn the card to face myself this time. "Hm, seems we've had a mix-up. Hold on." I raised up a gloved finger and reached my other hand down into the hat, pretending to search for the card inside. Barbara became even more confused at my antics. Even her father seemed addled.

"Is this a part of the act, or-?" before she could finish, I pulled my hand out of the hat, dramatically flourishing the _five_ cards I found inside it. They are shocked, questions flashing briefly in their eyes: _where did he get those cards? Wasn't that hat empty? What sorcery is this?!_

"Okay," I casually stretched, preparing for my finish. "Let's try that again." Without looking at any of the five cards, I showed them to Barbara. "Are any of these your card?" Barbara let out an astonished gasp. All five of them were a five of spades. _Classic_.

"Oh, my gosh!" she laughed, amazed.

"Woah!" her father cheered with unequal but still present enthusiasm. "Now, that's something!"

"Thank you, thank you." I bowed in my seat as if I had just finished a grand trick for an entire theater. "You are both far too kind!"

"H-How did you-?" Barbara started.

"Ah, ah." I wagged a finger. "You know how we magicians are with our secrets." Despite my shutdown, she was still overcome with awe, her smile reaching all the away up to her sapphire blue eyes. That face that look of wonder and amazement could have kept me going for the week, which is what made me feel even worse about this. "Um, not to kill the mood," I finally spoke, looking to her father, "but would you please?" I gestured to the hat. "A man has to eat, after all. Even the magic ones!"

"Oh, sure," he acknowledged, taking out his wallet and fishing for a bill. As he moved to hand the sum to me, something suddenly collided with his hand. "W-what the-?" he let out in shock. He dropped his wallet, its contents scattering over the sidewalk. Barbara and I both rose from our seats, astonished, though my reaction was again feigned. A pigeon, the culprit of the assault, boldly landed right in front of his property, pecking at them. It paid particular attention to his credit card, even flipping it over with its beak to nip at the back. Barbara's father started trying angrily to scare the pigeon away, hissing, "Shoo! Beat it, you little-!" After it had seemingly observed his property to its satisfaction, the bird took off up, disappearing over the buildings.

"Are you okay, dad?!" Barbara asked, concerned, and befuddled.

"Yeah, yeah," he assured her, collecting his belongings. "Just a darn pigeon. Freakin' sky-rats," he mumbled.

"Wow," she breathed. "What are even the odds, right? That was crazy!"

"Yeah…" His voiced trailed off. For a moment, he seemed to be considering what exactly had just occurred. _N-no, there's no way he'd..._

"You're sure you're alright, sir?" I inquired, performing concern to refocus his attention. "That was all a quite dramatic, even for my tastes!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grumbled, apparently not appreciating my humor. He seemed to remember something at that moment, turning to face me. "Oh, yeah," he re-offered his twenty-dollar bill to me. "Here."

"Oh, right!" I accepted my payment and let out a small laugh. "I think even I had forgotten about that after…well, that!"

"Heh, yeah," he agreed, this time allowing himself to chuckle, his brief suspicions hopefully forgotten.

"Well," I breathed, looking back to Barbara, "I hope you still enjoyed my show?"

"Oh, definitely!" she said, her smile returning to her. "You were amazing! Though the after-show was a bit much," she joked. I suppressed a flinch, forcing out a laugh.

"Well, criticism is always welcome!" I facetiously assured her.

"We'd better get going, Barbara," her father said, gesturing for her to follow him.

"Yeah, right behind you," she responded, turning back to me. "Thanks again!"

"I'm just happy to share the magic!" I said, bowing one more time. "I, The Breathtaking Balthazar, hope that we may meet again!" I lied.

"Bye!" she said, waving behind herself as she ran to catch up to her father. I returned it, stepping back towards my table and taking my seat. I watched them until they crossed the street on the other side. I looked down the other side of the block, checking for other passersby. Spotting none, I let out a relieved, tired sigh, fully relaxing my whimsical character. Before long, Dalf landed on my shoulder.

"You got it, right?" I asked him. He cooed in the affirmative, indignant that I would even ask. "Hey, we all make mistakes. _Even you_." With a flick of my wrist, a blank, plastic card appeared in my hand. I finger-flicked the card once, and like _magic_, the white card changed to the same blue as Barbara's father's card. "Alright: number?" Dalf cooed the answer, and I flicked the card again, his number appearing on the new card. We repeated this process for every important detail, just as we had done so many times before until the fresh credit card was indistinguishable from his. We'd created a perfect replica.

"A job well done," I let out in a sigh.

Dalf cooed in condemnation.

"I did fine!" I scoffed defensively.

Dalf said nothing, which really meant he was saying everything.

"Oh, come on; they loved me!"

Dalf cooed his criticisms.

"I wasn't losing them! Creating a false sense of doubt is essential for subverting the expectations of your audience."

Dalf cooed another example of my supposed blunders.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! It's the perfect title! It has alliteration, a-and a sense of scope, and-!"

Dalf cooed dismissively at my defense.

"Hey, it's not like you did your bit perfectly," I shot back. "We almost didn't get his serial number because you apparently can't flip a freaking credit card."

Dalf cooed angrily, flapping his wings and stomping his feet in response to the indignity.

"H-hey!" I yelled, attempting to shield my face from his tantrum. "Cut it out, you disease-ridden-!"

Dalf cooed even louder, sounding more like a crow than a pigeon, and swept himself up to land on my head, resuming his stomping up there.

"You little-!" I franticly stood, the folding chair skidding against the pavement, and began swatting at the bird. "Knock it off, dammit!" Dalf finally gave in and took off to avoid my swats, flying in a small circle before landing on the table in front of me. I slumped back into my chair, letting out another beleaguered sigh before looking back at the card. Inspecting the flawless forgery, I can't help but feel a little proud. I'm ashamed of the scam, but I still thought it was impressive whenever we pulled it off. It took a considerable amount of planning the first time we tried it, and we weren't even close to success then. Hell, we probably have a twenty-to-one ratio of failure and success with it over the past couple of months, but those times when we do succeed, times like this, felt pretty good. And hey, we did it together—Dalf and me.

"Well," I mused, a small smile forming on my face as I gesture with the card to Dalf, "we did get a good meal or two out of it, right?" Dalf was silent for a moment before conceding, in his way, with a nod and a low, begrudgingly affirmative coo. I raised a gloved fist to him, which he eye-rolled at before meeting it with a light peck to my middle knuckle. "Anywho," I sat up in the chair and slipped the card into my pocket, "the show must go on. Places, people, places!" I demanded of no one, clapping my hands like a stage director.

Dalf shook his head and took off, resuming his vigil atop the streetlight. I took in a deep breath, preparing myself for whichever unfortunate soul may approach next.

As I said, I know it's not right. I joked about compromising my magician's integrity earlier, but this really got under my skin. Tricking people, stealing from them; some people might not believe me, but I hate it. But the fact of the matter is, when you're as low as I am - when it's either this, nothing, or _worse_ than nothing - you have to look out for number one. Oh, and your pigeon sidekick.

...okay, fine, pigeon _familiar_.

Dalf cooed from his spotlight lookout, and I looked down the sidewalk, sighting two more passersby crossing the corner. Now, I, The Breathtaking Balthazar, have to get on with the show.

* * *

_Hello! Thanks for checking out my first chapter. This is a major rewrite of a fic I posted over two years ago, and I gotta say, I'm glad I came back to it! I don't hate the old version of this story at all, but I can't deny that it had some big problems. So, here I am, finally trying to do it right!_

_I know that this fic doesn't have much to do with the show quite yet, but this first chapter is just meant to introduce the characters of Balthazar and Dalf to you all! I hope you like them. Future chapters will also be much longer than this when we finally get to the actual episodes' content. We might be getting the perspectives of a few, more familiar characters as well!_

_Reviews are encouraged. Stay tuned, and again, thank you._


	2. Green with Something

**Gotham City**

**July 31, 17:29 EDT**

The bus rounds the corner, pulling up in front of me, and the door slides open. The wheelchair ramp unfolds, allowing my mother to wheel herself out.

"Honey?" she breathed, looking up at me as if she can hardly believe I'm there. "Is that you?"

"Hi, mom," I responded. I haven't actually seen her since I was still a kid, but she barely looks different. Her hair is cut shorter, and she has a few more wrinkles than she once did, but otherwise, it's like a picture. She also looks older in a different way. Like she's...wiser. Or just more tired.

"Your father?" she asked.

"I reminded him of the day, but..." I answered, unsure of how to even talk about Dad with her.

"I understand," she replied somberly.

"I-I'm making dinner," I stated, trying to take her mind off dad's absence.

"That sounds lovely," she said, a bit more energy in her voice. "I can't wait."

I began moving around her, intent on wheeling her home but stopped myself. "Do you want me to, uh...?"

"You saw me wheel myself out of the bus, didn't you?" she remarked teasingly. "I've had six years to get used to this thing, dear; I'm fine on my own."

"O-oh, yeah," I awkwardly laughed, "right, of course." She reached a hand up to touch my forearm, and I took it in mine.

"But thank you anyway, Artemis."

* * *

"...it seems my wand may be malfunctioning," I mused, lightly smacking the plastic wand I found in the trash last night against my hand.

"Is everything alright, mister?" the young girl, Maggie, asked, innocent concern in her voice.

"Oh, of course," I assured her. "These things happen sometimes! Magic can be a complicated practice. But I'm sure you know that very well, your highness," I joked, gesturing to the fairy-winged princess on her hoodie. She giggled in response. I heard a displeased scoff just behind the girl: her irritable mother.

"Maggie, let's go," she pressed, impatiently reaching for her daughter's hand.

"B-But mom, wait!" the girl protested, attempting to yank her hand out of her mother's grip.

_Well, if she wants to play it like that..._

"A moment, ma'am?" I called after her mother, a slight smirk poking at the end of my lip. "Don't you want to get your money's worth out of the performance?" She turned and did a double-take before deriding me again.

"I haven't paid you anything, kid!" she corrected boorishly. I feigned perplexion, eyes shooting from the woman to the table and back again. I was playing out the awkward, embarrassing revelation that, _gasp!_

"Then, um," I said, reaching for the credit card she'd **ahem-ahem** _left_ on the table, "I'm afraid you've dropped something?" Her jaw plummeted to the ground, shattering the cement beneath it.

"I, but I didn't, I-!" she sputtered before snapping out of her shock, stomping to my table, and snatching the card out of my hands. Now, to be fair: she probably would've recognized that this _wasn't_ her card almost immediately. However, it was a pretty sunny day. The card was this reflective silver color, so the sunlight bouncing off likely made it hard to inspect carefully on its own, which is why she made the horrible mistake of taking out her _actual _credit card to compare. The opening she gave him wasn't perfect, but it was more than enough for my feathered familiar to swoop in, steal it with ease, and take off, card in-talon, like an owl with a mouse. We rarely, and I do mean to stress the _rarely_, pull off stunts that blatantly. Not out of fear that any mark could piece that the teenaged, transient magician and the _pigeon _were working a scam together, but just that we prefer not to kick up too much of a fuss. Lest anyone knowledgable enough actually make that connection. But every once in awhile, it's fun to just _really_ screw with people. Speaking of, I'm not sure if the woman has fully processed what just happened. Her eyes, near-vacant and unblinking as if she had just entered a trance, following Dalf's airborne form as he ascended above the buildings with her card out of sight.

"Welp," I said, clicking my tongue, "good luck with that." I stood up, casually picking up my folding chair. I moved to grab the small table, too, but that was when I saw Maggie, equally, though perhaps more humorously, mesmerized as her mother. Our eyes met, and I felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry for ending the show so soon," I apologized genuinely, "you were a great audience member!" I grabbed the two chairs, the table, and my top hat under both my arms, which was awkward to do with haste, and began walking off. My departure must have snapped Maggie's mother out of her daze because she suddenly grabbed the girl's hand back and took off after Dalf.

"C-Come on, Maggie!" she shouted in a panic. "Stop!" she demanded of a bird, who, to be fair, _could _understand her, but definitely wouldn't listen to her.

"B-Bye, magician!" Maggie farewelled, struggling to keep up with her mother.

"Hope you can come again!" I shouted over my shoulder. I kept an eye over that shoulder to watch them take off, stopping once they rounded the corner. At that point, I couldn't hold in my cheek-splitting smile. And just as I turned my head forward, Dalf was in my face to ruin it.

He was a flurry of wings and sputtering _bird noises, _enraged that I would be so open with my abilities. However, the evidence of his compliance was still in his talons.

"Yeah, I know," I groaned, "but _come on!_ She was a-"

He cooed again, louder, lecturing that I just keep getting more and more reckless, putting myself in unnecessary danger.

"Look, _bird-mom_," I snipped, frankly a bit fed up, "whoever the hell could know that we're some knock-off Harry and Hedwig committing credit card fraud, I'm pretty sure they would've stopped us by now."

Dalf reminds me that someone _has _noticed our little scam before, and I have to stifle a reflexive cough.

"Well," I choke, "he's on the opposite end of the ocean if that makes you feel better." Dalf stops berating me for a moment, slips the card into my front jacket pocket, and then perches on my shoulder. "And it's not like he actually cared about the whole _crime_ thing. If anything, he was a fan." I catch myself musing, awkwardly glancing over to my familiar, who seems to have also noticed me caught up in memories. I scoff, "Why are we talking about him again? Forget it, let's get some dinner before Mrs. Bennet back there decides to pause her-" I stop, suddenly, my eyes drawn to a poster on the adjacent wall. Flowers and sparkling flourishes dance around the main image, which seems to be a close-up of a theater stage, a spotlight centered on a single man. He was dressed as a traditional magician, top hat and all, but his face was familiar to me more than that. The extravagant, gold text confirmed as much:

**_Come See the Magician Extraordinaire! One night only, July 31, behold the legendary Giovanni Zatara!_**

The world around me was washed away by the flood of recognition and memory that swept me away...

* * *

**New Orleans**

**Seven Years Ago...**

It took a running start to jump to the opposite roof, even if the gap between both buildings wasn't that wide. For an underfed, underhydrated eight-year-old, though, it was like an Olympian feat. And though he bit the landing, just barely managing not to scrape a knee, he quickly recovered and continued to his destination: the roof hatch. Now, even at his age, he knew that this looked bad. But you have to understand; this was his only recourse! There was no way he could get his hands on a ticket. He didn't have a penny to spare, or any pennies at all really, and he'd already tried begging the box office attendant, which didn't pan out. Sure, he would've been a bit out of place in his unwashed _Golden Girls_ tank top and ill-fitting cargo shorts. Still, thanks to that attendant's inflexibility, Balthazar was forced to attempt a break-in! It couldn't be helped. Thankfully, the hatch wasn't under lock and key, only a small latch. Unfortunately, said latch was _inside_ the building, so it was still a bit of a hurdle. However, the young invader had an inside man.

Well, bird. An inside _bird._

Specifically, once his airborne ally had spotted their entryway, it was clear that he would also have to be the one to get it open. One foray through a ventilation shaft that was uncomfortably cramped, even for a pigeon, and Balthazar saw the hatch flip right open for him. As his familiar fluttered up through the now-accessible opening and landed on top of the boy's head, he gave a look that seemed to be expecting praise from his young master.

"Are you gonna nest in my hair?" the boy curiously asked.

The bird balked at this - figuratively - but stopped himself from complaining, merely letting out a resigned sigh.

The boy quickly moved on, too eager to be in time for the show to wait for an answer, scrambling down the metal ladder into the theater's attic. He tried to be quiet, against the wishes of the unnervingly creaky floorboards. Thankfully, no one had noticed his entry nor his sneaking into the hall's rafters. As they found a vantage point, he was thankful only to see the audience members waiting in anticipation, rather than evidence that he'd missed even a second of the performance. Soon, the lights in the theater darkened, the audience going silent in kind. The excitement was thick in the air, especially as two spotlights shone on the closed stage curtains' center. On cue, the curtains slowly opened to reveal a thick cloud of sparkling, purple mist. The crowd was immediately surprised, especially when that cloud seemed not just to curve and weave as if it was alive. As it did, an enthusiastic, near worshipful voice echoed through the building.

"**Welcome, ladies, gentleman, and all in-between!**" It covered the stage, performing a sort of short dance for the audience, its sparkles floating off above the spectators' heads until it blends onto the very edge of the stage. "**It is with great pleasure that I introduce...**" It begins to spiral, forming a tornado of smoke and sparkle, until it finally bursts outwards, revealing the man of the hour. "**...the legendary Giovanni Zatara!**" Adding to his entrance's grandiosity, a swarm of doves all encircled him, spiraling outwards after the mist as Zatara gave a bow; the audience was already in love. Barely a minute into his performance, and the theater was filled with applause. Balthazar, his need to be unheard forgotten, joined right along with them. Luckily for him, he seemed to have gone unnoticed, everyone in attendance transfixed on Zatara.

"This is an unbelievable honor!" Zatara proclaimed over the audience's continued cheers. "And I genuinely mean that. Every time I perform for any audience, I am in awe that able to invoke such passion! I only hope that I can help you maintain that passion tonight." Perhaps now, Balthazar could have sensed a touch of exaggeration, as one would expect of a performer. But back then, in that theater, as he beheld the most celebrated, most talented magician of his or any other time, Balthazar found something undeniably true and beautiful. The show went on for what must have been an hour but felt like a minute fraction of that. Soon, the show had reached its conclusion, and Zatara had given his final bow of the night. The loudest applause of the night roared out then, as Zatara was swallowed by the returning mist, having disappeared from the stage once it dissipated. The audience calmed and began to depart, but Balthazar seemed unaware that the show was over. His eyes were still locked in the stage, perhaps hopeful that an encore would follow, though even he knew that it wasn't to be. Though he was happy to allow his master to continue his revelry, Dalf knew that the two had to be gone before someone decided to investigate finally. So, he got the boy's attention was a soft but authoritative slap of the wing on his shoulder.

"What?!" Balthazar yelped in surprise as if he had forgotten that his familiar was even with him. That did the trick, though. "Oh! Uh, sorry, Dalf." The boy scratched his head sheepishly, but the pigeon silently assured him nothing to apologize for. The two quickly made their exit up the hatch, Dalf staying behind to close the latch and exiting through the same vent he had entered. As Dalf met his master on the roof, he found him beaming, but with a slightly different emotion than he had in the theater. He hovered steadily in front of the boy, twisting his head to one side curiously. "Dalf, I've made a decision!" Balthazar announced. "As soon as Mom gets better, I'm gonna become a magician! Just like..."

* * *

"...Zatar-" I breathed, relaxing to the point that I unintentionally drop one of my folding chairs, the loud clatter of metal against cement not scaring me in the least. "Shit!" I screamed, jumping in shock, Dalf in-kind fluttering to my shoulder in surprise for a brief moment. I twisted in place, as if unsure of where the sound came from. Unfortunately, I spotted two women passing by me, having stopped to behold me in all my glory. One was an older, Asian woman in a wheelchair, and the other, likely her daughter, seemed to be around my age. Despite the circumstances, I found myself meeting eyes with the daughter, who's dark grey eyes I couldn't help but think were...lovely.

"Uh, you okay?" the younger woman asked, clearly somewhat off-put by the trenchcoat-wearing kid staring at her.

_Ah, so this is what mortification feels like. I hate it._

"Oh, I, uh," I oh so clumsily laughed, "I'm good! Just, uh...haven't been sleeping?"

Somehow able to pierce straight through the awkward tension by laughing at me, the mother said, "Well, get some rest, then! Kids your age need it more than most, clearly."

"I, uh, I'll be sure to, ma'am," I responded, appreciating her kindness and slight snark, "thanks."

"Mom, we should...?" the daughter interjected, clearly less patient than her mother and eager to move on.

"Coming, coming," her mother assured. "Have a nice day," she said to me, wheeling herself to her daughter. I'm not sure what sparked this in me - maybe the sight of the poster combined with the dissatisfaction with not completing my last trick spurred me on. Still, I felt compelled to thank the mother a bit more earnestly.

"Actually, ma'am?" I called to her, quickly setting my remaining chair, table, and hat down near the wall. "Could I have a quick moment?"

* * *

_Uh, what?_

Mom and I both stopped, unsure why this stranger stopped us when we were clearly on our way. I mean, no judgment for spacing out in the middle of the sidewalk - okay, maybe a little - but shouldn't he be okay with us just not bugging him about it? Mom was already nice enough to do her whole "concerned parent" bit to this random kid. It's not like just because he has that nice black hair that almost reaches his shoulders and those weirdly pretty, blue eyes mean we should- _wait, what._

"Oh, um, sure?" Mom said, a little more confused now that this guy was taking up our time for some reason. Gesturing to the stuff he was carrying, "Do you need help with...all that?"

"Oh Lord, no!" he insisted. "I wanted to ask if you would mind if I performed a quick trick for you?" the boy asked, a bit more natural as if he had entered some kind of flow. "I'm a magician by trade, and unfortunately, my last customer had to...leave, unexpectedly, so I have a trick leftover!"

Oh, _god._

I'm silently _begging_ Mom just to let us move on, but I could tell that she'd be pulled right into this if only to pity the poor guy.

"Sure, why not?" she laughed. _Great._

"Fantastic!" the guy exclaimed. Okay, I admit, his enthusiasm was a _little_ infectious. As he reached into his coat, he asked, "Do you two have names?"

"Oh, I'm Paula," my Mom replied, then gesturing to me, "and this is my daughter, Artemis."

"Hey," I greeted, curt, but still polite.

"An utter joy to meet you both, Paula and Artemis!" he said, laying it on _thick, _as he pulled out a...plastic, toy wand. "Now, whoever would like to say, what's your favorite color?" Mom turned back to look at me, cruel enough to try to include me in this.

I rolled my eyes, but ultimately, sighed, "Green."

He paused at that for a slight second, but said, "Well, I am fond of working with the unconventional!" I arched an eyebrow at that, actually a bit curious what he meant. I saw my answer, as he proceeded to wrap two fists, one on top of the other, around the wand's base before quickly gliding the top one up the shaft. As his hand left the rod, it was suddenly replaced by a bouquet of...green roses?

"That's quite impressive!" Mom complimented, giving him a small clap. I had to agree that that is...something.

"How did you make the flowers green?" I asked, legitimately curious.

"As I said, the unusual and I are well-acquainted," he said with a slight bow. Looking up directly at me with those bright, blue eyes and a soft smile, he offered the bouquet. "And you certainly don't deserve the mundane, Artemis."

_Why am I feeling hot right now?_

"Uh, t-thanks," I said, reluctantly accepting the roses in my hands. In the briefest of moments when the bouquet might have blocked my Mom's view of him, the boy winked at me so quickly that I wasn't even sure it happened.

"It was my immense pleasure," he promised.

"Artemis?" Mom said, snapping me back to reality. "Why don't you give him a few dollars as thanks?" This, for some reason, seemed actually to throw him off his rhythm for a moment.

"O-Oh, that isn't necessary!" he swiftly insisted. "As I said, it was my pleasure! Besides, the show was more an apology for my...profanity, earlier."

"Oh, you were fine," she assured him, "but thank you anyway. Do you have a name?"

"Why yes," he replied, his confidence returning, taking the chance to give another bow. "You may call me the **Breathtaking Balthazar**! A hopeful of the stage."

"Oh, that's great!" Mom laughed. He didn't seem to be insulted, in fact, amused by her reaction.

"It's a family name," he joked, and I actually joined with a small chuckle. He noticed and smiled up at me again.

"Well," he began, standing straight, "as I said, it was delightful to meet you both, and I wouldn't want to keep you. Please, have a wonderful evening!"

"You too, Balthazar," Mom said.

"Yeah, good meeting you," I concurred. He gave one more wave and turned back to his things, beginning to pick them up as Mom and I left.

Mom must have caught me starring at the green bouquet as we walked because I could practically _taste_ the teasing as she said, "What a charming boy, huh?"

"Mom, c'mon," I groaned.

* * *

As I finally managed to pick everything up again, making it easier for myself by wearing the top hat, Dalf returned, having taken off to avoid being seen. Perching himself on my shoulder, he rose a brow at me.

"Hey, sometimes I should get just to have fun, right? And it's not like we have to rob _everybody_." He looked over his shoulder at the two women, presumably at Artemis and the bouquet specifically, and silently queried further. "What can I say? She was cute, and I had a trick to spare." I began to leave but once more stopped at the posted for Zatara's show.

_One night only, July 31; tonight, and _**_only _**_tonight. _

"...Dalf, change of plans."

* * *

_Hey guys, thanks for checking out the long, long, long time the second chapter of The Breathtaking Balthazar. Senior year of high school and upcoming college classes, combined with...everything in 2020, has made building up any level of creative inertia a crushing challenge to overcome. But here I am, just over a full year later, finally returning, and I swear to God, I will be sticking with this puppy if it kills me._

_Now, for some actually helpful notes. In this chapter, for the first time, we not only had had shifting character perspectives but shifting narrative ones as well! So, to quickly clarify how exactly these changes will work, I'll try to be as clear as possible:_

_Firstly, only two characters' POVs will be represented in the first person: Balthazar, and now, Artemis! As these two are very important to this story, their perspectives are critical, as you will soon see._

_As an addendum to that, I wanted to avoid labeling these sections as **Balthazar's POV **and the like, since I want to keep headers limited to the same little setting and time blips from the show. I instead hope to make it clear through the text itself who's speaking._

_Secondly, any sections narrated in the third person are meant to represent basically any other context where Balthazar or Artemis are not themselves present as they are now. Meaning that this applies to sections where another character besides those two is the focus and any flashbacks, such as the one seen here._

_And that's it for now! Thanks again for reading. As always, reviews are encouraged. Have a good one!_


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